Once, Mr. AOW himself rescued a tabby cat from the alley behind his coin shop. Sheba, quite feral, was pitiful at four months of age, but went on to be a beautiful and long-lived beauty. She was Mr. AOW's "heart cat." I'm so glad that Mr. AOW didn't have his stroke while Sheba was still with us. Would have been so difficult for Sheba -- Mr. AOW was her person, even during those last years of Feline Cognitive Disorder.

I've never met a cat that I didn't like -- even if the cat wasn't all that warm toward me.

It doesn't surprise ME in the least. I've always known that Jersey was a good guy underneath that political bluster. I like to think that ALL of us are better than we generally let on here in the blogosphere. In fact I KNOW it. Mankind would not survive very long if what-we-see-in-the-blogosphere were the sum and substance of Human Nature.

Like young Ann Frank, I truly believe that all men are good at heart. It just too bad so many get enraptured by wicked or stupid ideologies and cling to a half-witted understanding of dogma of various kinds.

Dear, AOW, this may sound insensitive, but please try not to spoil a single moment of the present by worrying too much about the future. It may sound corny, but "Gather ye rosebuds, while ye may ..." is the best advice ever given outside of Holy Writ.

Thank you, FJ. I wish I could say Winner and Mr. Pussy -- my two remaining feline friends -- returned their Valentine's day compliment, but Alas! they are not nearly as discomforted by Priscilla's departure as I, and nowhere near as altruistic. Winner is too buy nursing her antagonism towards Mr. Pussy, a tiny, half-sarved foundling who joined us only last June, to show grief at Priscilla's absence.

That's all right. Fortunately, I have enough love left in me to take care of us all -- at least for now.

Thank you, Ducky. Tell me, did you have a REAL English Bulldog or was it a Boson Bull Terrier? I love both. Boxers too.

I'm much too old now, of course, but if I were ever to have another dog, I would want it to be an English Bull.

Met one at the vet's the other day. Looked so fierce, but was an absolute lamb -- thought he was a lap dog. ;-) He kept the waiting room warm, friendly and full of chuckles the whole time. EVERYBODY loved him.

My neighbor three doors down has a female English Bull named Emma. Emma is also good-natured, but has a will of iron and will not budge until she's ready to go. A great conversation piece in the neighborhood!

My deepest heartfelt condolences, my wife and I had to put down Miss Kitty, our Lilac-Point Siamese down on January 3rd and we just had an awful scare with our Australian Shepherd that thankfully turned out to be only a horrible case of prostatitis. He was feeling well enough today to give me a bath... it was supposed to be the other way around but didn't quite work out that way. Meanwhile, Godiva, our Chocolate-Point Siamese has staged a coup and believes herself to be in command of the household now.

Thank you, Finn. I had three until Priscilla suddenly developed an aggressive form of stomach cancer last month. There was nothing we could do for her once the illness became evident. It was ll over in less than two weeks. Very sad, because she was only ten years and seven months old. It's ironic that I often worried that she might outlive me and be left an orphan.

Once again: Man proposes, God disposes.

I am grateful for the two left behind, but have to admit Priscilla held a special place in my heart.

I've never had anything so elegant as a purebred Siamese. All my cats have been foundlings or in latter years cats I've rescued from the shelter.

I've never met one yet I didn't like. Each is unique -- just like people.

I always found this, which originally appeared in part in a Bizarro cartoon panel to quite adequately capture the essence of cats.

Day 752 of my captivity: My captors continue to taunt me with bizarre little dangling objects. They dine lavishly on fresh meat, while I am forced to eat dry cereal. The only thing that keeps me going is the hope of escape, and the mild satisfaction I get from shredding the occasional piece of furniture. Tomorrow I may eat another houseplant.

Day 761: Today my attempt to kill my captors by weaving around their feet while they were walking almost succeeded, must try this at the top of the stairs.

Day 765: Decapitated a mouse and brought them the headless body, in an attempt to make them aware of what I am capable of, and to try to strike fear into their hearts. They only cooed and condescended about what a good little cat I was...Hmmm. Not working according to plan...

Day 774: I am convinced the other captives are flunkies and maybe snitches. The dog is routinely released and seems more than happy to return. He is obviously a half-wit. The Bird on the other hand has got to be an informant. He has mastered their frightful tongue (something akin to mole speak) and speaks with them regularly. I am certain he reports my every move. Due to his current placement in the metal room his safety is assured. But I can wait, it is only a matter of time.

Yes -- and no. ;-) I suspect one of the reasons we feline fanciers love cats is admiration for their independence -- a characteristic both endearing and frustrating that holds great charm. I've had several kitties who were almost embarrassingly affectionate -- would want to stick to me like glue -- dog-like in their devotion.

Priscilla was not like that. Except on very rare occasions she insisted on keeping a certain distance between us. She was diminutive and very beautiful, and cast a spell on me from the moment our eyes first met in the shelter when she was still a tiny kitten.

I often said to her, when she very deliberately seemed to withhold her affection, "I doesn't matter whether you love me, Priscilla, all that matters is that I love you."

She'd look back a me as much as to say, "I know," but then she'd roll over on her back, and let me rub her tummy while she purred contentedly, languidly twitching her plumy tail all the while. We often watched late night TV together, and she'd let me hold on to the end of tail, until we fell asleep.

FT,Cats love us (Their servants?), and I'm sure that Priscilla loved you. But cats have strange ways of showing their love -- sometimes to the point of aloofness.

Priscilla clearly gave you her version of a loving goodbye.

My Dusti did something very similar her last few days (stayed close to me instead of being aloof), and Cameo hugged her. I'd never seen Cameo hug Dusti until those last few days that Dusti was on this earth.

Gratuitous Displays of Extraneous Knowledge Offered Not To Shed Light Or Enhance the Discussion, But For The Primary Purpose Of Giving An Impression Of Superiority are obnoxiously SELF-AGGRANDIZING, and therefore, Subject to Removal at the Discretion of the Censor-in-Residence.